Chapter 125
Chapter 125
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 125
Chapter Title: Zenos's Soul
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"Hey, don't just stand there gawking. Come on over and sit down."
Snap!
Looking awkward sitting alone, the old man entrusted his body to the rocking chair and snapped his fingers. A black void opened in midair, and a tea set tumbled out.
...To handle subspace so freely like that.
Subspace magic wasn’t some simple spell you could wield as easily as breathing, like the old man had just done.
A slight miscalculation in the coordinates, and the items inside could vanish forever into multidimensional space.
It was common knowledge anyone—even non-mages—knew.
That’s why most mages on the continent secured subspace through artifacts with fixed coordinates.
The fact that he manipulated it with a single finger, no incantation needed, said it all.
This old man... whether he’s really Zenos or not, one thing’s clear: he’s an incredible mage.
"Not coming?"
The old man, tea set in hand, poured calmly while prodding again.
Swish.
I took the first step forward.
"Young Master! It’s dangerous...!"
Bas tried to stop me, but I raised a hand to halt him.
I’ve been prepared for this since we entered anyway.
I’d been certain when we fought that monster Hydra as the guardian.
The dungeon’s creator was a mage beyond norms.
And now, that mage had appeared before us in the flesh.
Not aggressively hostile, for some reason.
That alone made it worth talking.
Thud!
"Heh heh! Not bad courage. I like it."
The old man chuckled happily at my unhesitating approach and took the seat opposite, pouring tea.
He looked just like the kindly old man next door.
...Is he really Zenos?
The Zenos from history I knew didn’t have this warm, folksy vibe.
"...That’s the face you’re making."
The old man smiled as if he’d already guessed my thoughts.
No point playing dumb if he knew.
"Well, I won’t deny it. The image fits, but the fact you’re still alive in this era is hard to swallow on its own."
"Heh heh heh! Impatient too. I’ll explain step by step."
Slurp!
"You’re all very lucky. If you’d met my corporeal soul instead of me, a cozy chat like this would’ve been unthinkable."
There was one word in his casual remark that I couldn’t just gloss over.
"...Corporeal soul, you say?"
Clink!
The old man set down his teacup and rose from the rocker.
We all stared, eyes widening at the sight.
His legs were gone.
From the waist down, nothing.
"Let me reintroduce myself. This person’s name is indeed Zenos. However."
The old man extended the hand not holding the cup.
"As you can see, this body isn’t alive."
The hand flickered—transparent one moment, solid the next.
"I am Zenos’s soul."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
There was once a boy.
From before he came of age, he had shown extraordinary talent for magic.
The nation of his birth was the continent’s superpower, yet one deeply averse to the study of magic.
Even so, his genius spread far and wide.
In an unusual move, the nation decided to actively support the boy in his magic.
The boy was thrilled.
Being clever, he understood the significance of the country breaking long-held traditions for him.
Thus, with unwavering resolve to repay his homeland, the boy created new magic.
The boy—no, now a young man—birthed a spell that fused different lifeforms into stronger, more efficient beings.
He was overjoyed.
He believed refining plants and animals with his magic would greatly benefit his nation.
But that was the young man’s delusion alone.
His country did not accept his pure intentions at face value.
They adapted his magic for military use.
Having already surrendered every method, the young mage became nothing but a thorn in their side.
The mage was ultimately exiled to a remote wilderness untouched by human feet.
He despaired. And raged.
His efforts to build a better world had brought calamity to so many.
He could flee to another nation and seek revenge, but he no longer trusted humanity.
Nothing guaranteed they wouldn’t abuse his research too.
The mage resolved himself.
He would correct his own mistakes.
But a mere individual couldn’t topple a continental superpower.
As the mage pondered, a monster from his place of exile appeared.
A drake.
Known as lesser dragons, apex predators.
Yet from the drake, the mage gleaned a hint.
Yes.
A dragon.
The legendary divine beast wielding 10th-circle magic.
He would create one himself.
It was grueling labor.
The gulf between lesser drake and true dragon defied imagination.
But he had to succeed.
Only then could he erase that damned nation.
Years passed.
The young mage became middle-aged.
More years flowed.
The middle-aged mage grew frail, his body too weak to move freely.
Even after such time, the research showed no end.
At last, the old man turned to forbidden arts.
"Every human possesses a soul and a corporeal soul. When they leave the body, all humans die. No exceptions to this absolute truth."
Zenos’s soul continued calmly.
"To persist in my research, I forcibly sundered my soul and corporeal soul. The sentient soul carried on the work, while the corporeal soul became a lich to guard the dungeon. I never dreamed it would be such a fatal error."
Zenos’s soul gazed at the dungeon with eyes full of regret.
"Only after ages of research, stripped of emotion with just the soul remaining, did I realize: a dragon—that near-divine ultimate beast—could never be forged, no matter how many lesser drakes I refined. My research ended in failure."
"Um, sir? Then why not just move on? No reason to stay here...?"
Saladin ventured cautiously.
"Tch! Soul and corporeal soul are one. Neither can depart alone. Until my corporeal soul admits this research was wrong, transcendence is impossible."
Zenos’s soul sighed.
"I am the culmination of Zenos’s mind in life. The corporeal soul... it retains only my emotions and body from then."
Saladin flinched at Zenos’s words.
"Huh. That sounds dangerously ominous... So, your corporeal soul right now...?"
Everyone naturally turned to Zenos at Saladin’s question.
"What use is saying it."
Zenos’s soul offered no reassurance.
"The corporeal soul can’t think beyond my life’s emotions and thoughts. It’s merely an ultra-high-grade lich, eternally bound by infinite rage at the Holy Empire and obsession with birthing a dragon. The only way to earn its acknowledgment is to crush it by force."
...Gulp!
Saladin’s dry swallow echoed clearly.
This time, even I couldn’t call him out for whining.
It was that absurd.
A legendary 9th-circle mage turned undead lich.
Even Father might struggle.
Unhappily, I could guess what Zenos would say next.
"Well, you must have guessed by now. I want to make a deal."
Zenos’s soul casually stowed the tea set in subspace, then expanded the rift wider.
Inside gleamed high-grade artifacts and stacks of research documents.
"These are what I’ve gathered, crafted, and studied over a lifetime. Promise to deal with the corporeal soul, and I’ll give it all to you. Not a scrap left behind."
"......"
No one could answer the outrageous offer lightly.
The peril was unimaginable, but so was the reward.
High-grade artifacts were one thing, but the true treasure was the lifetime research of the continent’s greatest mage.
In the hands of geniuses like Aria or Princess Seira, it could upend the war with the Holy Empire in ways we couldn’t fathom.
Yet I couldn’t accept outright.
...Should I back off this time?
I seriously considered retreat.
A corporeal soul with Zenos’s full living power would outmatch even modern throne-holders.
The pinnacle mage of history, after all.
In essence, the proposal was to slay someone on par with—or beyond—my father.
An enemy with an undying body, no less.
Zenos’s soul, watching my deliberation, spoke.
"I understand. It’s my own corporeal soul, after all. But."
Snap!
Zenos’s soul snapped again. The rewards vanished, replaced by new items from subspace.
"That’s why I said you’re lucky."
Another snap, and vials of reagents poured out.
"A lich’s danger lies in near-immortality. But these negate that law. Use them, and you can damage the corporeal soul’s body."
Helpful, sure, but...
Still not enough. A 9th-circle wasn’t formidable due to durability alone.
"Even this wouldn’t suffice to slay my corporeal soul."
Zenos’s soul snapped once more.
A flask of iridescent liquid appeared.
"In life, this Life Vessel holds my remaining vitality."
Zenos’s soul offered it to me.
"Take it. Like breaching the Hydra, pierce the corporeal soul’s assault, press this to its body, and shatter it."
He spoke as casually as asking a neighbor child for an errand.
"The lich’s source is life force, yet ironically, it’s lethal poison to itself. Radiant vitality is instant death to undead. This should handle the corporeal soul without issue."
...True, that slashes the difficulty a lot.
Approaching still meant risking life.
"S-Still too risky. Why not request backup from the Count?"
Saladin proposed the safe option.
"Regrettably."
Zenos’s soul dashed that hope again.
"Look at my hand. Too much time has passed; this soul is already dispersing into nature. What do you think happens to the lone corporeal soul then?"
Aria’s face grew grave.
"...It becomes a true lich. A monster harboring only grudge against the Holy Empire."
If so, a rampaging lich against the Holy Empire might benefit our alliance.
But Zenos shook his head.
"No. I approached you because I sensed no Holy Empire divine power in you. That’s why the deal."
Zenos’s gaze turned to me.
"Truly sorry, but you’re already recognized by me. Refuse, and it affects the corporeal soul too. Where it heads then... I can’t guarantee."
Damn.
Looks like there was never a real choice to begin with.